


If You Give a Boy a Rock

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 01:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13353957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Bellamy mostly decides to renovate Arcadia's abandoned library so he'll have a project aside from fretting over his sister leaving town. And he doesn't have a clue what to do with the museum side of it.Clarke does, though. She's got all kinds of stuff for that.





	If You Give a Boy a Rock

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the game Stardew Valley, so if you're reading along thinking, this doesn't seem like how a real town functions, that's why. It is a video game town. It doesn't have to be real.

A week after his sister leaves town, Bellamy decides to renovate the library.

The week between Octavia leaving and coming to that decision isn't great. He understands why she wanted to leave, even thinks it was probably necessary. Arcadia is a small town that gets smaller every day, and O always felt stifled by it. It's nothing Bellamy felt himself, but he could recognize it was different for her. He just always hoped she'd adapt, instead of leaving, and so her departure took him by surprise.

Miller's the one who tells him, after a week, that he needs a new project, and he knows he shouldn't disagree, but the impulse is still immediate.

"I have the farm."

The farm is, at this point, the plot of vegetables by the kitchen window, three asshole chickens, and the milk cow. They all require some amount of attention, but he can be done doing all he needs to do with them by eight or so, and the animals would probably rather he left them alone afterward.

Miller knows that too, and he snorts. "Yeah, that's really keeping you busy."

"I could expand."

"Do you want to?"

Bellamy's never been much of a farmer, which is part of why the place is in the state it's in. He has enough to get by, because Arcadia believes in good old-fashioned values like community and lending a hand and the barter economy, but he doesn't really have much reason to get more crops or animals. He'd just have to take care of them.

"No."

"You could leave too," Miller says, offering an option, and Bellamy sighs.

"I don't want to leave. I don't know what I want."

"Yeah, that's why I'm telling you to figure it out."

"Thanks."

"Just a thought." He stretches. "Come on, I'm going to the blacksmith to see if my new horseshoe is done."

Bellamy smirks. "That's why, huh?"

"You need some fresh air."

"Is it okay if I just want to make fun of you?"

"That's what I was figuring, yeah. At least I've got that going for me, how long have you been single again?"

"Maybe if you weren't into Monty, we could make it work."

Miller jostles his shoulder, and he jostles back, and it feels normal, like he could someday forget his sister is gone and the sense of purpose suddenly dropped out of his world.

Bellamy's always known Arcadia isn't really a typical town, stuck in the past in a lot of ways, which is why they even _have_ a blacksmith, because he's pretty sure that's not a thing anymore, most places. People just order their horseshoes online, if they need them, which they mostly don't.

But Arcadia has always had a blacksmith, and they like having a blacksmith, so when the previous one passed away, Monty Green took over, and Miller still hasn't entirely recovered.

Not that Bellamy can blame him, of course. Monty is a few years younger than Miller and another year younger than Bellamy, enough of a gap that they didn't see much of him in school, and the first time Bellamy went to the blacksmith to get some tool repairs done, he'd been struck like a physical blow by the sight of Monty, sleeveless, in the heavy blacksmith's apron, his hair cut short and his glasses off. For the first time in his life, he'd actually understood those movies where the perfectly attractive girl took off her glasses and let down her hair and everyone suddenly recognized that she was gorgeous.

Personally, he still thinks Monty looks better with the glasses, but he assumes they're inconvenient when he's working at the forge.

While he thinks Monty is attractive, Bellamy's not actually _interested_ , but Miller fell hook, line, and sinker, and it had been a good distraction while Octavia was getting ready to move out. It should still be a good distraction, but instead his attention snags on the combination library and local history museum, a block before the blacksmith.

When he was a kid, Bellamy loved the place. Not only did it have a weird collection of local junk, but it had a small library attached, the perfect place to kill time with his sister when they didn't like his mother's current boyfriend. It had been a refuge, and when Dante Wallace decided he could sell the collection and most of his property in the town and move onto greener pastures, Bellamy had been pretty crushed.

"Go ahead," he tells Miller. "I don't want to get in your way."

"Since when?" he asks, dubious.

"I'm turning over a new leaf. Don't worry, I'm not going to throw myself into the lake or something."

"You know when you're specific like that, I worry. Come meet me when you're done, okay?"

"Will do."

The building is locked, but it's community property, so Mayor Kane must have the key somewhere, and Bellamy can't imagine he won't give it up. Not if Bellamy wants to renovate the place. He can see in the windows, and there's still _stuff_ in there. It might take a while to get it back up to snuff, but if he can come up with a proposal and a plan, he's sure Kane would _like_ to see it open up again. It would be good for the community, for everyone.

"You think I'd make a good librarian?" he asks Miller and Monty, when he gets to the blacksmith's.

Miller eyes him, thoughtful. "Better librarian than a farmer. You want to be a librarian?"

"I'm not doing anything else right now, right?"

"Definitely not." Miller shrugs. "Could be fun."

As new leases on life go, it's not much. But it's a start.

"Yeah," he says. "Fun."

*

Kane is, of course, thrilled by the idea. 

"I've been hoping we could get the library back in order. I'm sure everyone in town will be happy to help restore it. What about the museum?"

"I'll do what I can," he says, inclining his head as he thinks it over. "I don't remember much of what they had, but artifacts are a lot harder to replace than books. But we could try to get started on a new collection."

"That's the spirit. I'll give you the key. Finding funding might take longer, but--"

But no one's going to let him starve to death. Charles Pike will make sure his cow doesn't escape and his chickens don't die, and while getting a salary would be nice, it's not really a big deal, for the moment.

What he really needs is something to do with his hands.

"I know you'll do what you can," he tells Kane. "Just keep me posted."

It _is_ a good project. There's a lot of cleaning and repair to be done before anything else can start, and Bellamy either knows how to do most of it or can learn, which is good. Monty's around to help with some of the metalwork, which means Miller "stops by" a lot, and plenty of other people are interested too. It's the most sociable he's been since he finished school, and it's kind of nice, if a little weird. He doesn't always feel like part of the community, having been somewhat isolated when he was younger, busy with his sister's care, and having people stop by to bring him lunch or donations takes some getting used to.

After six months, he has the place cleaned up and stocked enough to open it up, at least as a library, but the displays areas are still pretty empty, and he hasn't figured out what to do with them. Each spot has a small brass label under it, a description of what used to be there, and it feels like his own personal failure that he can't put any of it back where it was.

But it's only been a few months. He has time to build it up again, once he figures out what to do.

He doesn't think Clarke Griffin coming back to town will have much of an effect on the project, although he is mostly excited when Raven mentions it at the pub one night.

"Mr. Griffin's granddaughter, right?" Jasper asks. "The one who moved away."

Raven nods. "Yeah. We email sometimes, and I guess her grandfather left her the farm, so she's going to come and take it over."

"Clarke?" Monty asks, dubious. "Farming? I remember Clarke, I wouldn't really peg her for a farmer."

"I wouldn't have pegged you for a blacksmith, we're all doing new things." Her pause is deliberate. "Bellamy as a librarian checks out, though." He flips her off, and she makes a kissy face before turning her attention back to Monty. "I don't know if she's actually going to be farming. We've stayed in touch. She had a shitty breakup, I think she wanted to get out of the city. And now she's got somewhere to go."

Bellamy's memories of Clarke aren't particularly strong. She was his sister's age, so they were classmates, but she moved away right around when his mother died, and everything else about that time is a lot hazier, with everything else he had going on. She was just some kid, small and pale, with bright hair, there one day and gone the next.

And that's still who she is, at base, when she shows up at the library a few days after she moves in. She's about the same height as Octavia, with wavy blonde hair down to her shoulders, her skin winter-white in a way that makes him think she can't have spent much time outside lately.

He wouldn't peg her as a farmer either, if he's honest.

"Bellamy, right?" she asks.

He tries a smile and a nod. Customer service isn't exactly his strong suit, but he's working on it. "Clarke. Welcome back."

"Thanks. This place took a hit, huh?"

"Yeah, somehow." Clarke frowns, and he shrugs one shoulder. "Dante Wallace liquidated the whole collection and apparently got a decent amount of money from it, which does not sound real to me. I love the museum, but it's not like we were sitting on a bunch of Monets or anything."

She hums, thoughtful, as her fingers trace the spines of a row of books. "He probably just did it as a lot. There were some pretty nice geological specimens, right?"

The snort escapes from him without his meaning it to, and Clarke cocks her head. "Sorry," he says. "Just--geological specimens."

" _Pretty nice rocks_ doesn't really explain why anyone would want to buy them."

"Maybe some people really like rocks." He clears his throat. "But we did have some nice ones, yeah."

"Do you have any plans for what to do with the space?"

"Nothing yet. I'm hoping inspiration will strike. If you have any ideas, you can let me know," he adds. It feels right, an attempt at being friendly. She's new in town and seems nice enough; he can be friendly.

She clucks her tongue, selects a book, and brings it to the counter so he can check it out. "Yeah, I'll think about it. Thanks, Bellamy."

“Welcome back,” he says, offering another smile, and she returns it.

“Thanks. It’s good to be home.”

*

A week later, she shows up with a rock.

It’s a pretty nice rock, to be fair with a vein of something sparkly in it, but all Bellamy can do is frown.

“Thanks?”

“I found it in the old mine,” she says, like this is normal. 

“What were you doing in the mine?”

“Exploring.”

“Jesus, that’s—were you alone? How far did you go? It’s not exactly safe in there.”

“I’m fine,” she says, with a smile. “Do you want it?”

“Want what?”

“The rock. Monty said it was quartz? I thought you might have a place for it in the collection.”

That stops him short and he looks down at it, swallowing past an unexpected lump in his throat. It’s a rock, yeah, but it’s a rock for the museum. And she found it, and had it cleaned, and brought it over to give to him.

“Really?”

“What, it’s that bad you won’t even think about it?” she asks, but her tone is teasing, and she looks pleased. “I don’t have anything to do with it, you might as well take it. Better than nothing, right?"

"Honestly, I think having our collection be a single rock might actually be worse than nothing."

"So I should find you more rocks."

"You really don't have to."

"I'm going in the mines anyway. For materials."

"Materials for what?"

"Sculpture."

"What kind of sculpture?"

"I haven't decided yet. I guess it depends on what I find to work with." She worries her lip. "It's kind of a new project. I always liked doing art in school, but I figured it couldn't be a career, you know?"

He shrugs. "Kind of. I never thought much about my career, honestly."

"Yeah, I guess not. Anyway, I'll bring you any other interesting stuff I find. And I'll be careful," she adds, before he can say it. "Trust me, I don't want to die in an abandoned mine shaft."

"Whereas an unabandoned one is fine."

"Less likely to die. More witnesses." She pulls the book she'd borrowed out of her bag and slides it across the desk, and while he processes it she picks another and brings it back to him. "Have a good day."

"You too. Keep on not dying."

She smiles, which is reassuring. They're probably going to get along. "Doing my best," she says, and takes her leave.

He puts the rock on his desk, easy to see when he looks away from his computer or book. It might not take any money at an auction, isn't the best piece of quartz in the world by any metric.

But it's a pretty cool rock, he has to say.

*

"You aren't really going back into the mines, are you?" he asks Clarke, four days later. It's her second night coming to the bar to unwind, and he figures it's time to start being friendly.

Miller says this is out of character and he clearly has a thing for her, but that's bullshit. He can be nice to a cute girl with no ulterior motives. Besides, new blood is like catnip here. Every single person is town is going to be trying to figure out if she's looking for a relationship, and he doesn't need to get involved with that. He can just like her and be interested in her well-being. That's basically his brand.

But she is very pretty, when she smiles at him. She doesn't smile a lot, and it's a shame. "Has this been bothering you for four days?" she asks.

"It's dangerous in there."

"Have you ever been?"

"No, because it's dangerous." He pauses, takes a drink. "My sister got lost there once, I went in then, to find her. She fell, she probably would have died if I didn't know where she was. I haven't been back since."

"How old were you? I don't remember that."

He thinks about it. "It was summer, you might have been gone. I was twelve, and Octavia was seven. I told her she wasn't allowed in there so when she disappeared I knew where she must be. If she ever went back, she was smarter about it, but--"

"I promise I'm being careful," Clarke says, gentle. "It's really not a death trap for adults."

It's probably true, but it doesn't actually make him feel better. "When are you going back?"

"I don't know. Whenever I have some free time, I guess."

He wets his lips, feeling stupidly aware of how he's talking to her, how Miller is probably watching and laughing at him. He's not _trying_ to flirt with her, but that's probably how it's coming across. Liking her is different. There's nothing wrong with liking her. And wanting to spend time with her. 

And not wanting her to _die in the fucking mines_ , seriously.

"The library's closed on Sunday and Monday. If you want company."

"You want to come to the mine with me?" she asks, amused. "Isn't it traumatic?"

"Maybe this'll help. Face my fears. It's probably not as gross as I remember." He clears his throat. "Look, it's not--if anyone else was going down there I'd be saying the same thing. It doesn't have to be _me_ , but at least make sure someone's looking out for you."

"I don't want to make you give up your day off," she says, with this kind of careful tone.

"I don't mind. I'm not saying I'll come every week, but--"

"I'll come get you on Sunday morning," she says. "We can bring a lunch."

*

As promised, Clarke shows up at his doorstep at eight-thirty on Sunday morning, dressed for something like manual labor.. He's finished with the animals and is halfway through his coffee, but he'll admit he was expecting her to take longer. She seemed like the type who might sleep in.

"Is that what you're wearing?" she asks, looking him up and down.

"Uh, it's what I'm wearing now. Why? What's wrong with it?"

"It can get cold, you're going to want long sleeves. Something sturdy, in case you slip. Jeans, for sure."

He pauses, and then steps out of the way so she can come inside. "You might be better at this than I am. Coffee?"

Between the two of them, they find an outfit that Clarke deems acceptable for spelunking, and she makes sure they have water and snacks and something to eat for lunch. She also has a radio to talk to Raven that she always brings with her, so he has to admit, she might be prepared for this.

"So, I'm kind of an overprotective asshole, huh?"

"Overprotective, maybe," she says. "I don't think that makes you an asshole. If I thought it was about how small and weak I am because I'm a woman, I'd probably be pissed, but I kind of get the impression this is just how you are."

"Yeah, pretty much. I guess I'll learn something, right? Mine safety."

"Which you definitely need to learn."

"Nothing wrong with gaining knowledge. I still want to come," he admits. "If you still don't mind having me."

"You're pretty good company," she says. "It's not like I _like_ hanging out alone in mine. But I figure most people have better stuff to do."

"Not today, I don't. I've actually been looking forward to it."

"Me too," she says. "Let's go."

*

He doesn't go with her every time she goes to the mine after that, but they do have a standing Sunday appointment, which he refuses to call a date. It's not like going to an old mine is romantic. They mostly find a lot of weird rocks and chat about their lives. He hears about her life in the city, her ex who told her that she wasn't good enough at art to make it as an artist, which might have been true but could have been phrased better, her decision to pack up and move to the middle of nowhere. He tells her how Octavia did the opposite, how he's still not really used to her being gone, how it still feels like some of his purpose left with her.

"It looks like you're doing fine to me," Clarke tells him, inspecting a rock and apparently deciding that it's a good rock that deserves to go in her bag. "I know it probably doesn't feel like that, but at least from the outside, you're kind of a pillar of the community."

He snorts. "Seriously?"

"You're basically the leader. At least of the younger generation. They all look up to you."

"I guess."

"I'm just saying, I think you've got a place here. I never thought you didn't fit."

It's more affecting than he was really expecting, and he has to swallow hard before he can speak. "You fit too," he says. "Here. It's good having you around."

Her smile is bright. "Good. I think I'm going to stay."

Sundays aren't the only time she goes to the mine, which he can admit makes him a little nervous. He doesn't think she's going to die or anything, has seen first-hand how careful she is, but he doesn't like knowing she's out there alone.

Raven gets him a radio too, and that helps a lot, and he and Clarke chat off and on while she's walking, the conversation tugging him through long hours of no one coming by the library, giving him something to look forward to each day.

"I can't believe she's going to hook up with Bellamy," Jasper says, petulant, about four months after she moved to town. 

"Can't you, though?" Monty asks. "It's Bellamy. He's a pretty good romantic prospect."

"Thanks?" he says, with a frown. "I think. But nothing's going on with me and Clarke."

"Is she still bringing you _donations_?" Miller asks, like this is some kind of code word.

"They're real donations, Miller." They might not be perfect, and he's still not convinced any of them are actually things that belong in a museum, but she is bringing donations into the museum. It's not a euphemism. "None of you are doing anything to help."

"Exactly," says Miller. "None of us are. But Clarke is."

"Yeah, because she's a better friend than any of you," he says. 

Miller lets it go at the time, but he's in the library right after opening the next morning, eyeing Bellamy's radio and collection of rocks with pointed interest.

"What?"

"Is there an actual reason you're not hooking up with her, or are you just a stubborn asshole?"

It's a question worth thinking about. "Do you really think she's going to stay?"

"Why wouldn't she?"

"Because it's quiet and kind of boring here. She might not be looking to settle down."

"And god forbid you just get laid."

"God forbid." He sighs. "Look, I'm not--"

Right on cue, the radio crackles. "Bellamy?"

He snatches it up. "Hey, everything okay?"

Her laughter comes through, and he relaxes. "Just letting you know I got here safely."

“Good. What are you looking for today?”

“Something red. You need anything?”

“As always, I never need anything from a literal mine and it's weird that you keep asking.”

“So a cool rock.”

“A cool rock would be great. I’ll call back in an hour?”

“I know you will. Later.”

Miller’s still watching, and he sighs. “There’s no good reason. I should be trying to make that happen. She’s amazing.”

“I’m just saying, how many rocks does a girl have to give you before you ask her out?”

“Are you giving Monty rocks? Is that how he’s supposed to know you want to date him?”

“I’m working a different angle. Don’t act like this is on me, I'm admitting I’m into him. Not whatever the fuck you’re doing.”

“Taking it slow,” he says, even though it’s kind of bullshit. “I didn’t think she needed someone else trying to sniff out if she was single and looking.”

“Everyone else decided she was into you,” he points out. “So, you know.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, taps that first piece of quartz she gave him. It's still his favorite. “I know.”

*

The next morning, he brings her a pile of lumber, and she blinks.

“Hi?”

“I had to take down one of the trees in the back of the farm,” he says. “I thought you might be able to use this. For art or something.”

“Oh.” She looks at it, a smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, probably.”

Despite her positive reaction, he feels awkward. “I figured if I had extra stuff like that you might want it. If you don’t—“

“No, I do. Thank you.” She smiles. “I was about to have breakfast. Do you want to stay?”

Without anyone else around to make him feel self-conscious, the answer is easy. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

*

That becomes their status quo for a few weeks: Clarke brings him rocks and other interesting stuff she thinks he could use for the museum, he brings her lumber and materials, and on Sundays they go to the mine together. When they’re at the bar, they’re usually a unit, even when they talk to other people, and it definitely feels like a good start.

At some point, he’d like to figure out the next step, but he hasn’t yet. He’s dated a few people before, but it always happened organically, easily. It wasn’t something he had to think about much.

He thinks about Clarke basically all the time, but that doesn’t translate to _doing_ anything. Mostly he's just pining and overthinking, which he can't claim is a great strategy for anything.

And then he calls her while she’s in the mine, and she doesn’t pick up.

He tells himself not to panic, not right away, but he’s already moving, grabbing his coat.

“Clarke? Seriously, Clarke, pick up, where are you?”

There’s no answer, and somehow he has the piece of mind to put up the _closed_ sign before he leaves.

“You know me, I’m already on my way to you,” he tells the radio, with a huff. “So if you’re okay, if you’re around, tell me now. I know you don’t want me overreacting.”

There's still no answer, even as he tries a few more times on his way to Raven. He knows the last place she checked in, and she wouldn't have gone that far, but--

"Have you heard from Clarke?" he demands, when she opens the door.

"I don't even have the radio on me, she mostly just talks to you these days. She's not picking up?"

"No."

To his relief, Raven doesn't tell him he's overreacting. "I'll try her, but I assume you're going in?"

"Yeah."

"Do you have backup? I'd come, but--" She looks down at her leg.

"Miller's on the way, I'll grab him." He swallows. "It's probably nothing, right? She went to a place with no reception or something."

"The reason we've got these is so that if anything happens to her, we'll know. We're supposed to go looking. Breathe," she adds. "Don't worry, we got this."

"I know. I'll just feel better once we've actually got her."

"I know. So, go get Miller, I'll get my radio on, we'll figure out where she went."

It's not like when O got lost there when she was a kid, somehow really is way less stressful, which is a relief. He knows this is where Clarke is, for one, and he's a lot more familiar with the mines than he used to be, since he comes here with her.

It's going to be fine. It _is_.

Still, when the radio crackles to life as he and Miller start down the path she was on, and he hears the weak, "Bellamy?" it's such a profound relief he nearly falls.

"Clarke? We're in the mine, where are you?"

"Where I said I was." Her voice is a little stronger now, but not strong enough for his liking. "There was a bad patch of ground, I fell and got separated from the radio. I can't climb up, but it's not life-threatening."

He lets out a long, shaky breath before he tries to respond. "Okay, we're on our way. Keep talking, stay conscious."

"I'm conscious," she says.

"Keep talking anyway. Tell me what you've found so far."

She talks with minimal prodding from him, going until he can her hear in stereo, on the radio and down the slope where she fell.

"I hear you," she says, and he leans over, heart rate slowing down as he actually sees her.

"Hi."

"Hi. This was an isolated incident."

"I know." He climbs down carefully, looking her over. "Leg?"

"It's not broken or anything, but I landed on it, and I don't think I can walk on my own."

"Yeah, we've got you." He lets out a breath. "Fuck, I was so worried."

"I know, sorry. The whole time I was just thinking, _Bellamy must be freaking out_."

"Someone's got to do it." Between him and Miller, they get Clarke back up onto the path, and Bellamy wraps his arm around her, letting her lean on him as they make their way back out, Miller walking ahead of them ostensibly to update Raven, but Bellamy's pretty sure he just wants to give them privacy.

"Sorry," she says again, and he squeezes her.

"It's fine. It could have happened to anyone. You took all the right precautions."

"So you're not going to tell me to never come back here?"

"You're an adult, you get to make your own choices." He clears his throat. "I'm probably going to want to check in more for a while, but--"

"I don't like making you worry."

"I always worry. It's my thing. You keep it to a minimum."

She laughs. "That's what I'm going for, yeah."

Jackson takes a look at her, declares her ankle badly sprained but not broken, tells her to take it easy and come back in a few days.

"Do you even know how to take it easy?" Bellamy teases, as he walks her home.

"I could work on it. And I know not to walk on a bad sprain. Raven's going to loan me her crutches, so--I'll be fine."

"You'll be bored."

"I can sit and work. I'll come up with something to do."

"I can bring you some books," he offers. "To keep you busy."

"And some lumber?"

"Whatever you want, yeah." He clears his throat before either of them can dwell on the statement. "Do you have something for dinner?"

"I can figure something out."

"I can cook."

The pause is way too long, and he's about to rescind the offer when she says, "If you don't want to date me, you should maybe just tell me now. Before you make dinner for me. Not that you can't, I just want to get my expectations set."

He smiles and gives her waist a squeeze. "I definitely want to."

"Okay, cool. Please come make me dinner and take care of me."

It's not his first time being in her house, but it's his first time going past the kitchen. He gets Clarke settled on the couch, kisses her when she tugs him down, and then drags himself away to make dinner, but once that's done, he gets to look around, check out the art she's working on and the stuff she's already finished.

"This is really good," he says, touching a delicately carved branch. He recognizes the actual piece of wood, one he brought her, but just barely. She's done wonders with it. "Seriously, amazing."

"Thanks."

"You ever think about giving these to the museum?"

"They're not done."

He settles back down on the couch, and she curls up next to him. Miller's going to be the smuggest asshole in the world, but he'll live. "When they are. I could find somewhere to put them."

"That's kind of corrupt. Putting your girlfriend's stuff on display?"

"Who's going to stop me? Besides, it doesn't have to be just your stuff. It could be a local art gallery or something. Something to showcase the town's talent."

"That would be really cool."

"Yeah, but it would be a lot of work. And I don't know much about art. I might need some help."

Clarke laughs and snuggles a little closer. "You just want me to stay out of the mine."

"We can go back. Every Sunday, right?"

"Standing date?"

"I like our standing date," he says, and she smiles.

"Yeah, me too."

*

Octavia comes back to visit next Christmas, having skipped her first one away, like she thought it was too soon to come back without Bellamy kidnapping her or something. Which he wouldn't have done, but--he's definitely in better shape now than he was this time last year. Like Clarke said, he has a place here. His sister doesn't have to. He can still belong.

He's at the library when she arrives, busy with a read-aloud session, but he smiles at her, and she smiles back, wandering into the gallery to check out the displays. Clarke's there, of course, and he can see the two of them talking out of the corner of his eye.

They used to be friends; it's an odd thing to think about.

Once the reading finishes, he takes a second to prepare himself and the goes into the gallery, where Clarke is showing Octavia her sculptures. Clarke's the one who sees him first, cocking her head at him while Octavia isn't looking, checking in, and he smiles and comes over to slide his arm around her.

"Hey, O, welcome back."

His sister pulls him in for a hug, grinning. "This place looks amazing! Even better than when we were kids."

"Yeah, it was kind of weird and creepy when we were kids," he says, with a fond roll of his eyes. "There was plenty of room for improvement."

Octavia's not letting it slide. "I mean it. This is really nice. You did a great job with it."

"This part's mostly Clarke."

"Group effort," she says. "Bellamy cleaned up the building, Raven set up the lighting and displays, Monty makes the labels. And I'm not the only artist represented, so it's not all my stuff either. But it was Bellamy's idea. As a pillar of the community."

He rolls his eyes, but Clarke is smiling, and Octavia's smiling, and it's actually kind of awesome. 

"Glad you're doing okay, Bell," says Octavia, and it's no kind of surprise to hear it. He knows how great his life is.

It's still nice to hear, and he squeezes her around the shoulders, grinning. "Yeah. I think we've got it figured out."


End file.
